


Lies of Omission and Lies Outright (Falling Into Place, Part Two)

by spuffyduds



Series: Falling Into Place [2]
Category: Star Trek (2009)
Genre: 1000-3000 words, Multi
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-01-24
Updated: 2010-01-24
Packaged: 2017-10-06 16:12:15
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,273
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/55492
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/spuffyduds/pseuds/spuffyduds
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>An attempt to work WITH the ongoing Spock/Uhura pairing.</p>
    </blockquote>





	Lies of Omission and Lies Outright (Falling Into Place, Part Two)

**Author's Note:**

> An attempt to work WITH the ongoing Spock/Uhura pairing.

"You _lied_ to me," Jim says. Loudly, because the corridor stretching away from Spock's quarters is empty.

"I assure you I did not," Spock says. "What particular statement are you misunderstanding?"

"Are you going to let me in?" Jim says, crosses his arms and glares.

"Certainly. Would you like a drink while you expand on your accusation? Perhaps some music?"

Jim sighs and drops into an armchair while Spock pours him some juice. He's given up asking, "Are you making fun of me?" because he's finally figured out that any time the question arises, the answer is always yes.

Spock hands him the glass, with a ridiculous oversupply of ice, just how Jim likes it.

"Thanks," Jim says, and takes a lot of tiny sips while he looks around the room, trying to avoid expanding on his accusation. He can't figure out Spock's quarters; they're nearly bare, but somehow elegant. Jim's quarters are nearly bare, and look like a discount hotel room. Scotty's quarters are nearly bare, but always give the impression that he _just_ got rid of the beer-can pyramid five minutes ago.

Probably a large part of the elegance is from the three small silvery sculptures on various shelves. They're solid-looking but somehow--swoopy, and every time Jim looks at them he thinks, "Flight, those are _flight_." He keeps meaning to ask Spock if that's what the artist meant, but he's half-convinced that Spock will lift his eyebrow to the exact angle that means "Your ignorance saddens me," and explain that those are Vulcan waffle irons.

"Well?" Spock says, finally.

"The other day, in the onion field?"

"Yes?"

"The council from that planet just sent us an official copy of the proclamation of friendship. With a full--and I mean really full, Spock, I have never waded through so many 'whereas'es in my life--description of the required ritual, and there was _nothing_ in there about, about _kissing_. Zero. Onion harvesting and onion eating and many required toasts with what passed for alcohol, but nothing about lips. No lips."

"None?" Spock says, and _his_ lips are trembling a little.

Bastard's trying not to _laugh,_ Jim thinks, and glares harder. "You lied," he says.

"Not at all. I never said that was part of the ritual. I merely said that you should listen throughout the entire explanation of rituals that you agree to perform, which is indisputably true."

"So you just---you just decided to--"

"I _had_ verified beforehand," Spock says, "that it is not one of the benighted planets where such, ah, lip contact would cause the natives to think less of Starfleet."

"And you just felt like it."

"That would be one possible interpretation. Another would be that I wanted to ensure you listened to the full explanation in future."

But no, the fact that he didn't just flat-out contradict "You just felt like it" means--

Jim grins at him. "You just felt like it."

"Granted," Spock says. He walks over, slowly, looking Jim in the eyes the entire time. Takes the glass of juice out of his hand, sets it carefully on a shelf, leans over and kisses him again.

Jim's body does several things without checking with him first; his mouth opens, he slides down in the chair, he grabs Spock's shirt and hauls Spock down on top of him.

Spock lands on him heavily and their mouths smash together, _ow_, but neither of them stops kissing for a good long while. It's slow kissing and then fast and then slow again, some gentle and languid and some lip-biting; there's panting and soft _mmmmmm_ing and Jim thinks he maybe snarls a little in there somewhere. It's six or seven differently excellent long kisses all run together, and finally Jim has to pull away just to breathe.

"Uhura--" he gasps. "I know, I _know_ you wouldn't do anything unless it was okay with her, but I gotta ask, have to, it's okay with her? You're sure?"

"In her last communication," Spock says, nibbling along Jim's jaw to his ear, "she said that should this eventuality, ah, _arise_," and he rocks his pelvis into Jim's, _god_, "she would want full details later." He bites Jim's earlobe lightly and Jim gasps and shivers under him. "The 'full' was in all caps," he adds, and slides down a little to suck on Jim's neck.

"Oh god," Jim says, staring at the ceiling. "That's really fucking hot. And terrifying. You're both terrifying. You both terrify me."

"I know, Captain," Spock says, sliding hands under Jim's shirt and pinching at his nipples. "Isn't it a relief?"

"_God_, yes," Jim says. "Wait, what?" but now Spock's tongue is on a nipple, flicking, and Jim loses track of the conversation.

Spock licks and nibbles down his ribcage and then suddenly bites lightly near his navel, and Jim says, "ARRRK!" and his knees come up hard, one of them into Spock's ribs, and Spock yelps and pulls away but Jim still has his arms around him. There's a moment of wild confusion and more elbows and knees flailing than Jim would have guessed were actually available with just two people, and then _wham_ they're both on the floor.

"Um," Jim says. "Ticklish."

"I gathered."

"Sorry. Ah. If you want to stop, that's--"

"No. Take off your pants."

Jim shivers, and opens his mouth to ask if Spock understands the concept of chain of command, and does not actually manage to say anything at all, and takes his pants off. Undershorts, too, just to show some initiative.

Spock rolls over onto him, grabs his hips, and Jim was expecting the tease of the century but Spock just--goes right down on him, just like that.

Jim stares at the ceiling some more and tries to think about extremely unsexy things so he lasts more than a few seconds here. He tries to think about cold showers, and sweaty socks, and that insect-based dish at the crew's last Diversity Dinner, but all he can think is _hot tongue pulling sucking, Spock, oh god_ and then he's not thinking anything at all because he's coming.

He just breathes for a while until his brain starts working again, then lolls his head to the side and looks at Spock. "Nice," he says. "Can I--do you want--"

"I believe," Spock says, "that I will let you anticipate that for a day or two." He reaches over and pulls Jim's shirt down, helps him maneuver the rest of his clothes back into place. Pulls the cushion off the armchair and stuffs it under Jim's head. And then does something that's either tugging Jim's hair back into a more professional look or--roughly petting it for a second, Jim's not sure.

"Okay," Jim says. "Okay." He's relaxed, he's so relaxed he sounds almost drunk. He's in no particular hurry to get up off Spock's floor, either. Spock's floor is extremely comfortable.

"Hey," he says, waves vaguely around at the little statues. "Those are flight, right? Those are about flying."

And oh shit, the eyebrow goes to pity-for-ignorance setting; but Spock doesn't say anything about waffles. He says, pityingly, "Jim, I thought you knew, those are web cameras."

"Oh _fuck_!" Jim says, leaping to his feet, every iota of relaxation gone, "Oh, you are fucking _kidding_ me, you _bastard_, you--"

He looks at Spock, and Spock is biting his upper lip so hard it's almost disappeared.

"Oh," Jim says. "You _are_ fucking kidding me."

"That would be fucking correct, yes," Spock says, and Jim picks up the chair cushion and makes a pretty serious attempt at beating Spock to death with it.

 

\--END--


End file.
